Consciousness returned slowly, the myriad of colors fading and separating until there was nothing but darkness. It was different darkness than the one that had blanketed him for sometime, Tarin Brooks noticed, and his senses were working again. The dull throbbing behind his right ear told him that opening his eyes at this point would only invite more pain and probable nausea, so he concentrated on the other things he knew. One of those things was who was responsible for him being here. Why hadn’t he listened to Lee?

It was cold, he didn’t have a jacket on and the short sleeves he frequently favored in the shop were providing little protection from the damn chill in the air or the light wind sweeping through…wherever he was. It was definitely outside though.

The air smelled moist, like freshly turned dirt. Was he on a farm? Tarin tried to put his hand to his head and found it secured to…his other hand. He was attached to something, his back pressing against it. It was cold, and rough, the sensation as he ran his hands over it was familiar. Realization dawned and despite his earlier decision to keep them shut for the time being, Tarin’s eyes shot open.

He had been right, as dim sunlight poured into his eyes, the throbbing behind his ear increased to a stabbing jolt and he nearly retched. Luckily, that didn’t happen because a moment later, Tarin realized that something had been shoved into his mouth, and secured there by what could only be standard, heavy duty duct tape. The pain in his head wasn’t all that was making him sick though. Tarin’s eyes focused, and the pain reduced itself to a dull throb as he looked around and realized that the worst case scenario was true. He was in a graveyard.

The idiot hadn’t thought about the consequences when he’d put Tarin here, had he? The idiot didn’t know that being around that many spirits increased the chances of a merge a hundredfold. Even as he thought of it, the pressure in Tarin’s head increased and they started to materialize around him. The pounding in his head was distracting, it made it hard to concentrate, but Tarin hung on. Thinking of anything but the dead people starting to close in on him. Broken images started to filter into his mind, images of death, despair and Tarin fought them off, thinking of Lee, thinking of all the things they were going to do.

Yelling was useless, he’d just end up choking on whatever was shoved in his mouth. Tarin looked up at the sky and groaned. It was starting to get dark.

Nobody had come. The sun was sinking below the horizon and nobody had come. Tarin's head pounded with renewed vigor and it didn't help when he let it fall back against the headstone he was tied to. The spirits were everywhere and Tarin had broken out in a sweat a long time ago as he tried to keep them out of his head.

The myriad of images was becoming more and more clear as more and more spirits appeared. Tarin could only imagine in his worst nightmares what it was going to be like when the sun actually went down. He'd never been able to figure out why spirits liked the dark so much, they weren't any more visible or any more capable of affecting the living world, but they were stronger against him.

He was zoning off, and as he did so the spirits closed in and a particularly lurid vision of a man putting a gun in his mouth and pulling the trigger pulled Tarin back to reality and he stared ahead as the last rays of sunlight faded and shadows filled the graveyard. The effect was almost instantaneous as true darkness enveloped the man tied to the tombstone and he squeezed his eyes shut as if that was going to make the spirits go away.

It hadn't worked when he was 11 years old and in his safe house with his mother and brothers, and it didn't work now. Tarin could feel the pressure in his head building as more and more spirits materialized and the cold sweat Tarin had broken into earlier intensified until it was rolling down his face. Tarin groaned into the wet cloth in his mouth as it felt like his brain tried to push itself through his ears. The images were running into each other again, more and more disturbing, more and more violent. How were there possibly that many maniacs in this particular cemetery?

They wanted him, they were pushing harder and harder and Tarin knew what was going to happen. It had happened so many times and it was going to happen again. It couldn't happen again, not after the last time. Rupert couldn't be right, Tarin wouldn't give himself over to this again. He thought about Lee, about what would have happened the last time if she hadn't left him and gone to Canada before it had all gone down. He wasn't going to put Lee in danger, never again.

The spirits were everywhere at once, and they were getting stronger and stronger, pulling more and more from Tarin as he sat helpless to stop it. His head was pounding, his body was shaking and shivering and his arms strained against the bonds without him even knowing he was doing it.

No...no....no...no...got to get away...got to get away..." Tarin repeated over and over, into the cloth in his mouth and in his head. The pressure was worse, his head was actually pulsing with it and Tarin screamed, all the frustration and helplessness he was feeling manifesting itself in that one act of desperation. Then there was nothing.

The pressure had totally left, but the spirits were still there. Tarin frowned as he looked around at them. Then he realized he was standing. Stumbling back a couple of steps, Tarin turned and what he saw made him gasp in horror, his body was still tied to the tombstone.

The sprits were still trying to get at him, and Tarin stood frozen and watching as they failed time after time. Had he died? That wasn't what death was supposed to feel like, was it? Tarin looked at his hands, they seemed substantial enough, but when he reached out to touch a nearby tombstone his hand passed right through it.

"Shit..." he said, and a spirit turned to him, studying him solemnly for a few moments. Tarin tried to link with it experimentally and nothing happened, "Double shit..." he said, and the spirit turned away.

Gradually, all the spirits turned away, giving up on using his body for their own devices and fading into the dark, so there Tarin stood, looking at himself. He was scared at first, wondering if he really was dead, but then he saw the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, and even though his head lolled against the headstone there was a heartbeat thumping steadily in his neck.

Experimenting again, Tarin closed his eyes and tried to imagine himself back into his body. He opened his eyes and saw that nothing had changed. He tried other things...physically moving into his body failed, as did yelling and screaming at himself. After a while, there was nothing to do but wait, hoping that the people who hadn't found him in time to prevent this would find him now.

Graveyards weren't Ashley Brooks' normal nighttime haunt; typically the crimes and criminals he found were in the streets, dark alleyways. But Ash had heard that there had been a lot of vandalism in this graveyard recently, among possible other activities, so The Shadow was out. It was still early, so he wasn't fully expecting to run across anything yet, but he felt it was best to check things out.

And then Ash heard noises coming from further into the cemetery. Stopping to listen for a moment, Ash came to the decision that the noises were more than simply someone visiting a grave, not that that would have been overly expected at this time of night. So Ash started moving, cautiously yet quickly, in the direction he had heard the sound coming from.

Then, just as it seemed Ash was getting close to where the noises were coming from, they suddenly stopped. Slowing down, Ash looked around carefully; it wasn't the easiest thing to do in the darkness, but years of practise looking for perps in dark shadows in alleys helped out, and the fact that it was a clear night allowed the cold star and moonlight to shine down on the tombstones.

Then Ash saw something he hadn't been expecting: a single figure, though sitting rather than standing, not moving. Slowing to a careful walk, Ash made his way forward, looking all around for anyone else who might have been there.

As he scanned back over the tombstone the figure was sitting against, his eyes stopped dead on the man's face, his feet following suit a moment later.

He knew that face. He hadn't seen it many times over the last 15 years, but without a doubt Ash knew that face.

"Tarin?" Ash asked, taking a closer look at the figure against the tombstone. The figure tied to the tombstone.

Seeing no movement, Ash took another couple of slow steps closer. "Tarin?" He said again, a little louder this time.

Tarin was out cold. Ash had ascertained that rather quickly once he closed the distance between himself and where his brother was leaning. Out cold and freezing, since he was just wearing a short sleeved shirt with no coat. And his arms pulled around behind the stone, duct taped there, with another piece stretched across his mouth.

Tarin must have royally pissed someone off to have this been done to him, Ash thought. Royally. Even with as angry as he had been with his brother all these years, Ash wouldn't have pulled something like this on him. Knock him out if given the opportunity, perhaps, or tie him up in a shed back home maybe, but not both, and definitely not in a graveyard at night with no coat.

Despite everything, even Ash couldn't help but think that this was going too far.

Crouching down beside his younger brother, Ash pulled the duct tape off his mouth. And became more concerned when that didn't evoke any reaction from Tarin. But duct tape hurt, so why didn't he react?

"Damn it, Tarin!" Ash exclaimed, winding up and slapping his brother across the face. "Wake up."

Still, even with that hit across the face, Tarin didn't react at all. What was going on here? Even unconscious, Ash would have expected Tarin to react to that.

That was not normal, that was not what Ash would have expected. Despite himself, Ash was actually worried. He was actually worried about Tarin.

Shaking his head at himself, Ash pulled his cape off and threw it over Tarin before moving around to the back of the stone to start tearing the tape off Tarin's wrists. As he did that, tearing and pulling at the tape, something he was sure had to be hurting yet wasn't producing any reaction despite Tarin's rhythmic breathing, Ash's mind raced. What the hell was he supposed to do with Tarin? Other than a the bump on Tarin's head, it didn't look like he was hurt, just...non-responsive.Which in itself was an issue. He couldn't just take Tarin home like this, something serious had obviously happened. But with Tarin's powers, with how he was tied up in a graveyard, simply taking him to a hospital might not be the greatest idea, either.

And then as the last bit of tape came off Tarin's wrists, Ash had a flashback of a tour of a mansion, a place that had been explained to him as being not just a safe place, but also a school for mutants. A school which had an infirmary of sorts. That could certainly work.

Standing, Ash took a deep breath and looked around. It was one thing to go carrying Tarin through the cemetery, but how was he going to get his brother all the way to the mansion? Though, dragging him was a tempting idea, but he figured that would draw even more attention than simply carrying him. It really was too bad, the more he thought about it, the more dragging Tarin sounded like a great idea.

So carrying him, it had to be it seemed. Followed by a cab once they got out of the cemetery because his hotel and thus his rental car was too far away. Grumbling, Ash yanked his hat off, untied his mask and threw both into Tarin's lap before making sure the cape was covering him and then lifted himinto his arms.

((OOC: Continued in If I Could Hit Rewind And Do It All Again.))